Threads in a Tapestry
by Roschelle Templar
Summary: Just as tapestries are made up of many threads, the bonds between people are made up of many moments. A collection of missing scenes and one-shots...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This chapter takes place after the episode "Santa Claude".

* * *

Steve Sloan was not happy.

He'd just spent two hours talking with his superiors about how Claude Campbell aka Andrew Basevich could possibly disappear in the middle of a hospital full of people. Granted, Steve didn't have anywhere near as much explaining to do as Tolliver, the deputy sheriff who was supposedly guarding him, did. Still, Steve was chastised for not taking precautions of his own to ensure that Claude would be extradited according to procedure.

After parking his car, Steve ran a hand over his face while walking toward the beach house he shared with his father. Between his normal work hours, the time he had just spent at the restaurant, and then mostly listening to his bosses rattle on about protocol, it had been a long day. Too long. Especially when he had thought that he would be able to relax and enjoy some holiday cheer with his father.

Thoughts of his father made his face fall again. He'd been suspicious when Jesse had pressured him into taking over the dinner for the homeless when Jesse had been the one to arrange it in the first place. But at the time, Steve figured that Jesse had gotten distracted and had weaseled out of it so he could do something more fun. It was annoying, but Jesse had done him a lot of favors in the past, so he was willing to overlook this.

However, it was impossible to overlook the increasingly plausible theory that Jesse had deliberately schemed to get him away from the hospital so that Claude had a better chance to escape. The only thing that lessened his irritation with Jesse was the fact that he was certain that it was actually his father who had orchestrated this whole thing.

"Dad?" he yelled, slamming the door behind him. He paced around the house until he finally found his father sitting in his study, sipping a cup of coffee while glancing at a newspaper.

"Steve," Mark smiled at him. "How did the dinner go? Would you like some coffee?"

"The dinner went fine," Steve replied. "Maybe next year, Jesse can try actually showing up for the charity events he organizes."

"Ah, sorry about that," Mark said. "But Jesse really couldn't get away. You know how busy the hospital can be at the drop of a hat."

"I do know," Steve said. "I also know a con job when I see one. Like the one you pulled to help Claude escape."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mark said with feigned ignorance.

"Dad…." Steve sighed. "You don't really expect me to believe that Jesse was busy on some urgent case at the hospital and yet still had time to answer his cell phone do you?"

"I don't see why not," Mark said. "It's not unusual for a serious emergency to be resolved in only a few minutes."

"Yeah, sure, but all this is just too coincidental," Steve said. "And you were the one who taught me to be suspicious of too many coincidences."

"I suppose I did, didn't I?" Mark smiled at him.

"Dad…"

"Steve, listen," Mark said, taking off his glasses. "What if, hypothetically speaking of course, there had been a very good reason for someone to, oh say, misdirect a policeman from a not entirely legal incident?"

"Like what? Like maybe helping a fugitive escape? Like making sure that said person could get away with helping a fugitive escape?"

"Well there is that," Mark nodded. "But perhaps also because that same someone didn't want to get the policeman in trouble. Because they were concerned about that policeman's livelihood."

"Or perhaps this person would have nothing to worry about because that policeman was going to enforce the law so they wouldn't get in trouble," Steve said.

"Yes, I suppose they might," Mark said. "But then the policeman would be faced with a very difficult moral quandary. One that might prey on their mind long after the incident was over. And that other person….well, they might be willing to take a risk for what they know is right, but they might not feel comfortable with involving someone else they care about."

Steve sighed and shook his head. Mark sat his coffee cup down and stood up.

"Of course, this is all hypothetical," he added. "Because if any of this was true…and I'm not saying that it is…it would put you in a difficult spot. A spot I'd never want to see you in."

Steve let out another sigh and turned away from his father.

"You know, Dad, I knew how things might turn out for Claude. And I didn't like sending him back either."

"I never thought you did, Steve, but still…."

Steve held up a hand to stop him. "But I was still going to do it. You know why? Because, as flawed and messed up as the system is at times, I still believe in it. That's why I'm still a cop, Dad. Because if I ever stopped believing in it, I couldn't keep doing this. Not with what I see day after day."

He paused and put his hands on his hips. "But being a cop also means that I sometimes have to do stuff I don't like or even think is right. I can do everything I can to make sure some kind of justice can get through. But I also know that I won't be able to do it every time. And I hate that. I hate it, but I still keep doing what I can whenever I get the chance."

Steve let his hands fall to his sides. He wasn't enjoying this conversation at all and wanted to just leave it where it was right then. But he also knew that there was one more vital point he needed to make.

"Dad, the reason why I'm able to work with you as a police consultant is because they know and I know that you're going to do everything you can to help us uphold the law. But I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep doing that if I know that there's a chance that you're going to work against me when I'm not looking. Even if the reasons behind it are good ones. And if the department ever catches wind of any of this…I'm sure you know how that will turn out."

"I know," Mark said quietly. "Steve…you know that I'd never…."

"I know that you'd do everything you could to avoid getting me into trouble," Steve interrupted. "And that you wouldn't mean for anything bad to happen because you ignored police procedure. But the result would be the same and you know it." He paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm going to turn in early tonight."

"Steve, I...I know it was wrong, but Claude…."

"Dad, don't say anything. I don't want to know," Steve said. "Hypothetically speaking, I understand why you did what you did and I agree that it was probably the just thing to do even though you did more than just bend the law a little. Let's just leave it at that. Good night Dad."

"Good night Steve."

Steve nodded his head and took off toward his part of the beach house. The somber tone in Mark's voice hadn't escaped his notice, but right now, he couldn't bring himself to act on it. Tomorrow, he'd make sure to take Mark out to breakfast and maybe suggest that the two of them pick out a holiday movie to watch together in the evening. That would be just the thing to lift his father's spirits.

For tonight, though, Steve needed to be alone so he could resolve his own feelings about what Mark had done and remind himself of why he was going to try to make sure it didn't happen again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** This takes place some time during season six...

* * *

"So let me get this straight, Jess. You only order three refill bottles of ketchup, which our customers use a lot of every day and instead order five extra large bags of salad croutons? Even though our salad sales were down last month?"

Steve rubbed his eyes and stared again at the figures on the invoices in front of him. Most of the supplies Jesse had ordered for the restaurant made sense and were economical choices while still fulfilling their needs. Although, it also made this unexpected jump in crouton purchases stand out even more than if there had been a pattern of haphazard buying.

Unfortunately, the look on Jesse's face told Steve that Jesse didn't see any problem with this at all.

"Well yeah," Jesse said. "Steve, we've got plenty of ketchup right now. Even with all the French fry specials we've been running. We really didn't need to order more this month. I just got those three for insurance."

"Ok, then why spend the money we didn't need for that on croutons?" Steve asked. "Why not stock up on other stuff we use a lot of like salt, pepper or sugar packets?"

"For promotions," Jesse answered. "Do you have any idea how many BBQ places there are in LA? We've got to stand out more, Steve. I mean, think about it, most restaurants put that stuff on their tables for the customers to use. It's a cliché."

"Or maybe it's catering to what most customers want at a restaurant like ours." Steve countered.

"Oh sure, yeah, anyone can offer the popular stuff," Jesse scoffed with a wave of his hand. "But we're different. Those extra croutons, they represent the attitude of BBQ Bob's."

"Attitude?" Steve leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. A smirk played on his lips as he braced himself for Jesse's explanation.

"Yeah, because most places only care about the bottom line," Jesse said.

"Uh-huh. And I take it, we don't anymore?"

"Yes…no….I mean, we do, but it's not just that. It's also about welcoming people and making them feel like a part of our restaurant family so they'll keep wanting to come back."

Jesse held his hands up to gesture as he spoke, framing each word with his fingers. "Because at BBQ Bob's you're more than just a customer. You're family. And families get more…."

"Like more croutons on their salad," Steve chuckled.

"Yes, exactly," Jesse said, holding a hand out toward him. "You get it now."

Steve chuckled again. He was still a little confused about how customers were supposed to realize that they were at a restaurant that cares just because there were a few extra croutons on their salads, but he also figured that a gimmick to boost salad sales for a little while couldn't hurt either.

Still, there was one question that remained in Steve's mind.

"And what do you plan on doing with all those extra croutons if our salad sales continue to be slow?" he asked.

"I've already thought of that," Jesse grinned, holding up a finger. "And I've been thinking about a new concept for the menu: panko fried ribs."

"Jesse…no."

"Here me out, I just know that the butter and herb croutons would be super easy to crush and would add flavor to the…."

"I said, no."

"Aw come on, Steve. You act like it's never been tried before. But it has. I tried it out two weeks ago and it was pretty good. Well…I didn't really try that out on purpose. It was sort of an accident. See, a bag of croutons got dumped into the fryer, but I figured out a way to save them and create a new culinary adventure at the same time…."

Steve smiled even more and shook his head as Jesse shared the tale of how a new discovery in food had been made in their kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note** : This chapter is an episode tag for _Man Overboard._

 **Mustard Lady** : Aw thank you. I enjoy how Mark and Steve interact so much, I really did hope that they came off as IC. And yes, I also enjoy writing dialogue that involves Steve trying to fathom how Jesse's mind works...even if that can be a daunting task. XD

* * *

If Mark Sloan had to choose something he disliked about being a doctor, he knew exactly what it would be: all the reminders of the fragility of life.

He let out a huge yawn and leaned back even more in the lounge chair on his terrace that overlooked the beach. He still felt sluggish from the heavy dose of Valium that Clare had given him in an attempt to kill him. Still, despite the residuals from that and the disruption it had had on his sleep cycles, Mark found that he was tired, but unable to fall asleep.

Mark kept thinking about Robert Brantigan. He was a little disappointed in himself for not considering the possibility of a medical issue causing Brantigan's erratic behavior, but then he also accepted that it would be impossible to diagnose something like that without any knowledge of a person's background. Still, Mark wished he had had at least an inkling of what was going on mainly so he could have been more sympathetic toward Brantigan while he was still alive.

 _"Do you have children, Dr. Sloan?"_

 _"And do they love you?"_

Mark frowned. The ravages on the mind that a brain tumor could cause were some of the worst that he had come across in his decades spent in the medical field. Other illnesses could incapacitate the body, but the ones that involved the brain could strip a person of everything that made them who they were. It was true that he didn't really know Brantigan at all, but Mark suspected that he didn't deserve what was happening to him.

Especially when it involved losing the bonds he had with his daughters.

Mark's frown deepened. He couldn't imagine being so insecure about whether or not his own children cared about him or not. At the time, he'd answered Brantigan's query with a joke about Father's Day ties. The truth was though, it was a question that never even occurred to him.

Although, maybe he could see why someone might ask him that question. Someone besides a person with a brain tumor altering their thought processes.

First there was Carol. Things never were easy with Carol. She had been independent for a long time and had always been eager to go her own way rather than stick close to her family. When things got tense between her and Steve, this only intensified her desire to keep her distance.

Still, Mark never stopped hoping that Carol knew that she would always be welcome in his life. It took eight years, but eventually, Carol did come back to him and to his delight, she returned much of the affection he had showered on her.

However, after the murder of her husband was cleared up, Carol promptly left to start a new life in Seattle. Mark had been disappointed that she left so soon, but he made sure to let her know that he respected her decisions and still loved her anyway. These days, he got a few cards, the occasional phone call and the very rare visit, but overall, she had gone back to living on the fringes of Mark's life.

Then there was Steve. Steve was always close by physically as a result of their living, working and socializing together. However, Mark could not deny the fact that Steve could be just as distant as Carol was in his own way. His son kept his emotions hidden much of the time and tended to be stoic in many situations. Steve usually preferred actions over expressing his feelings directly.

Plus, Mark knew that Steve kept plenty of things to himself. Things related to his work and to his personal life. Not that he resented his son for that. Steve was entitled to his privacy. But Mark also didn't kid himself into thinking he knew everything that was going on in his Steve's life. On top of all that was Steve's strong drive to take on the responsibility to watch over everyone which gave him an inclination to be stern and serious even during times when it might have been more appropriate for him to be more relaxed.

Steve and Carol. His children. Both of them stubborn, sometimes combative with each other and often finding their own ways to be distant.

 _"And do they love you?"_

Mark yawned again and sighed. He hadn't mentioned it to Steve yet, but Carol had called the same day they had gotten back from the cruise. It was a brief conversation that mainly was a way to just catch up on the major events in each other's lives. Mark was always grateful that Carol had become more mindful in making sure he heard from here even though he wished that he could spend more time with her.

It was the last bit before she said goodbye though, that had really stuck with him.

 _"I sent you a card a couple of days ago with a newspaper clipping inside. I was thinking about you while I read it, so let me know what you think the next time we talk."_

Mark smiled. It was such a little thing. Carol was just sending him a clipping she found interesting. But it reminded him of something he had always hoped for: that she was often thinking about him in her day-to-day life. That she could see something and wonder what he thought of it. For several years, he had thought that she was actively trying to keep him at the back of her mind.

These days though, he felt like a part of him was always with her. Much like it had never stopped being for him.

"Dad?"

Mark yawned again and turned his head to see Steve walking over to him. He was holding a plastic bag in one hand and a couple of video cassettes in the other.

"Oh hi," Mark smiled as he got up. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get some of the sleep out of them. "Are we still on for dinner tonight?"

"'Fraid not, Dad," Steve said. "I've got some paper work to finish up for Clare Brantigan's arrest. I probably won't be back until late."

Mark's face fell a little, but he tried to not let it show too much. He knew that his son had responsibilities that sometimes made it impossible to keep to the plans they made. It was a lifestyle he had experienced himself for many years.

"So I got you some of your favorites from that Chinese place down the road," Steve continued. "I figure you can just warm up any leftovers later if you don't get to it all right away. And I brought a movie to watch in case you get bored."

Mark took the tapes from Steve and studied the title on the boxes. " _The Longest Day_. You know, that is a good movie, but for some reason, I can't always stay awake for the whole thing. And the way I feel right now…."

"Yeah, Jesse said you'd probably be pretty drowsy for at least another day," Steve said. "That's why I got this movie. I know you've seen it and wouldn't mind seeing it again…but it's no loss if you sleep through most of it either."

"Thanks Steve," Mark smiled at him. Steve smiled back and patted his arm.

"I've got to go," Steve said. He sat the bag of food on a coffee table near the TV. "Oh and save me some of that Moo Shu Pork in case I can get away early."

"Will do," Mark nodded. "See you later."

Steve waved at him as he walked back out the door. After he was gone, Mark took out one of the tapes and inserted it into the VCR. Then he sat down and searched through the bag until he found the fried rice. He leaned back with his carton of food just as the movie started.

 _"And do they love you?"_

Mark smiled again. However, it wasn't because of the food he was eating or the movie he was enjoying. At least not directly.

It was because he remembered why it had been so easy to answer that question.


	4. Chapter 4

**Mustard Lady** : Thank you. :) I did think Mark had a lot to think about in relation to that episode, so an episode tag like that just seemed the most natural thing to write.

 **KittyKat06** : Hi there! :) Yes, and I'm still working on your next chapter request. It will appear on AO3 before it will here, so just a heads up there. Also, glad you enjoyed this chapter. I did think Mark's comments during that dinner with Brantigan was interesting considering his relationship with his kids compared to what was going on with Brantigan's. Also, I do like that, although Mark didn't see as much of Carol, they made it clear that he never stopped thinking about her...Oh and I agree with you that "actions instead of words" is really how Steve tends to show his affection toward Mark.

* * *

"Dad? When did you get a guitar?"

It'd been a long day at work, and Steve knew that Mark had also had a tiring day based on the short conversation the two of them had had around lunch. So, he had brought home some Chinese food so he and his father could unwind for an hour or two before they had to go to bed. Even though it was late, Steve was confident that his father would still be up.

What he hadn't expected was to walk into the door with what sounded like the opening chords of _Pennies from Heaven_ being played on an electric guitar. Steve had dropped the food off near the door and had walked in to see Mark sitting on the couch fiddling with a guitar on his lap.

"Oh hi, Steve," Mark smiled at him. "Are you hungry? I think there's some leftovers in the fridge."

"That's ok, I brought dinner," Steve said. "But Dad, what about this guitar?"

"Isn't it great?" Mark said, his smile growing. "Doctor Feinstein, you remember Doctor Feinstein, don't you? He's the one who tried going over Niagara Falls in a barrel….twice."

"Yeah, and then he got kicked into a palm tree when he tried to ride a camel," Steve nodded.

"Oh that's right, I had forgotten about that," Mark chuckled. "Anyway, his son is moving back to LA and he was giving away some stuff that his son didn't want anymore. I saw this and thought 'wouldn't that look nice sitting next to bongos?'"

"And of course, you can't have a guitar without trying to play it at some point," Steve said, a smirk starting to form.

"Exactly," Mark replied. "I used to fool around with a ukulele when I was in college, but this is a bit different, I must admit. Still, I think I might get the hang of it."

 _'Yeah, and I'll get an earful of it until you decide rather or not you will,'_ Steve thought. He was already picturing many afternoon and evenings of mangled songs while Mark played with his new toy. Evenings where he was sure he'd be tempted to put in some extra shifts at BBQ Bob's.

Still, seeing his father smile while trying to piece together chords from his favorite standards brought a smile to Steve's face as well. He thought back a few years ago when he asked his father why he was buying bongos without ever having played them before.

 _"Well maybe I don't know now, but I could learn how to play them,"_ Mark had told him. _"That's half the fun of it: learning something new and discovering how good you are at it."_

The guitar whined in protest to Mark's clumsiness with the fret board, but Steve continued to grin. That answer was so typical of his father. It was also part of the reason why people seemed to be drawn to Mark. Because his father was always on a journey to find new ideas and new experiences.

And it was a journey that Mark was happy to share with the world around him.

"Ok, Springsteen, if you're ready for a break, I've got some moo shu pork I'd like to dig into," Steve said.

"Oh great," Mark said, sitting the guitar aside. "Now that you mention it, I am kind of hungry."

Steve chuckled and went to fetch the food. For a brief moment he thought that maybe it would be better if Mark turned his attention back to barbershop quartets.

' _Nah_ ,' he thought as he grabbed the bags and turned on the TV before sitting down on the couch next to his father.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** This takes place after Jake's Women.

 **Mustard Lady:** Aw thanks. It's always fun for me to write from Mark's perspective, so I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

* * *

Steve knew that something was up the moment his father suggested that they stay home and watch the game.

It wasn't the fact that they would be spending an evening in. After the week the both of them had had, staying in sounded more than a little appealing. Steve knew that his father had had a long week with reading over papers along with his usual rounds. Meanwhile, he had had his own hands full with the Jake Caldwell case.

Steve leaned back against the couch and sighed. He still didn't think much of Jake's approach to relationships, but he didn't think the man deserved to die over it either. Although after what happened to him with Maeve this week, Steve felt as if he had a special insight into how Jake's two wives felt.

Maeve. Even after he had found about her being married, Steve had a hard time dismissing his attraction to her. Maeve had been the type of woman he kept searching for through countless blind dates and chance encounters. Unfortunately, she also ended up being just as out of reach as the rest of those women seemed to be.

Then again, maybe it had been just as well. Steve had meant what he said to Amanda and Jesse about not wanting to pass judgment on how other people lived and loved. In fact, a part of him was pretty sure that he wouldn't have gotten as upset as he did if Maeve had told him during their first lunch together that she was married. He might have even considered at least keeping in contact with her. But the fact that she had lied to him had destroyed any chances of that. True, it was more of a lie of omission than a direct lie, but in this circumstance, it was all the same thing to Steve.

Steve sat up a little again and half paid attention to the reporters hyping the upcoming game. The only thing that was anywhere near as bad as the realization that he'd been duped was facing his friends and father. Thankfully, they'd mostly been discreet about it. Well, other than when Jesse offered his own "Break Up Blues Ribs" for lunch the next day. And that awkward moment when Amanda made it clear that he should have kept the receipt on that ankle bracelet.

"Ok, dinner's here," Mark announced, carrying in two large bags of takeout. Steve grabbed one of the bags and peered inside.

"Mexican?"

"Yeah, I thought it'd be nice to have something different from the usual ribs and burgers we've been having so much lately," Mark said as he sat down. "Why? It's ok, isn't it?"

Steve stared down at the bag filled with nacho chips, salsa and trays of refried beans and rice. It reminded him of the restaurant he had met Maeve in for the last time. At the time, he was pretty sure he wouldn't want to visit another Mexican restaurant for quite a while.

Still, there was no way Mark could have known about any of that and there was no reason why he needed to make his father feel bad for picking this for their dinner.

"No, that's good," he said, setting the bag down onto the coffee table. "As long as I don't have to listen to any more restaurant mariachi bands any time soon."

Mark made a face. "Ooo, I know. I think they're supposed to provide atmosphere, but it always seems like those horns get played right next to my ears. I remember one time I was taking one of my old colleagues out to dinner at a place that had one of those bands. I thought for sure I was going to have a ruptured eardrum before we got our desserts."

Mark drove his point home by waving his hands by his ears as if they were being hit by walls of sound. Steve smiled and chuckled under his breath. Suddenly, the food didn't seem all that unappealing. He pulled out a bag of the chips and opened up a cup of salsa to dip them in.

"So…has anything happened yet?" Mark said, glancing at the TV.

"The game's about to start now, Dad," Steve said before popping the chip into his mouth. "They're announcing the starting lineups."

"Ah ok," Mark nodded. "It's been a while since I've watched a game."

"No it hasn't," Steve countered. "What about that one I took you to last spring?"

"You mean the one that got rained out toward the end?" Mark smirked at him.

"Yeah, that's the one," Steve smirked back. "I still say that they blew it by not waiting another five minutes."

"Steve, there was a lake in the middle of the field."

"Dad, it wasn't a lake. At most, it was a large puddle."

"A large puddle that just happened to flow all the way over to the dugout. I'm pretty sure I saw some baseballs float away."

Steve chuckled again and shook his head. "So what you're saying Dad, is that you weren't really watching that game."

"Well, there wasn't much to watch once the field turned into a duck pond," Mark smiled. "But no, I suppose I wasn't really. If I remember right, it'd been a rough week at the hospital and my mind wasn't up to paying attention to the game."

"I guess I should have known better than to suggest it," Steve said with a lopsided smirk.

"Oh no, I had a good time," Mark insisted. "I had one of the best hot dogs I ever ate."

"Yeah, one of the most expensive hot dogs you've ever eaten," Steve scoffed.

"Well, maybe, but the company was definitely worth the price," Mark smiled.

Steve smiled back. He ate a couple more chips as his father's words sank in and he finally realized the purpose behind their watching a baseball game together.

"Dad."

"Hmm?"

"I'm fine," Steve said. "I will be fine. Maeve was…It doesn't matter. It's in the past, and I'm putting it behind me. Trust me, I'll get over it."

"Oh, I had no doubts that you would," Mark replied. He leaned forward and put his hands onto his knees. "But I also saw no reason why you had to be alone and couldn't have any fun along the way."

Steve looked down at his lap and chuckled again. Even though he had so many examples to look back on through the years, he never stopped being amazed at how his father always seemed to know just what he needed. Whether it was a quiet, supportive presence or someone to talk to.

Or even just someone to share a meal and an evening in front of the TV with.

Steve smiled and tossed a bag of chips Mark's way before handing him his own cup of salsa. They watched together quietly for a few more minutes before Steve set his food down.

"You forgot the beer," he said, getting up from the couch.

"Wait, don't you want to wait for a commercial?" Mark said, using a chip to point at the TV screen.

"Nah, this guy is going to strike out any second now," Steve said as he left the room. "I don't need to see that."

He had just gotten the six pack out of the fridge when he heard the sound of cheers coming from the TV.

"Steve? Isn't it called a grand slam when you get a home run with the bases loaded?"

Steve sighed and shook his head. It was just his luck to miss something like that. Then again, it was hard to remain annoyed for more than a few seconds.

Not when he was one of the luckiest people he knew right now.

Steve took the beers out to the front room, a smile on his face and his heart lighter than it had been for the last couple of days.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note** : This takes place some time during Season Seven

 **Mustard Lady** : Thank you. I think that's one of the things I really appreciate about this show: how they balance the humorous with the more serious stuff. Thus, I couldn't resist adding in some of that levity to that chapter. :)

 **Milford** : Thank you so much. Probably the biggest thing I fuss over when writing fic is making sure everyone seems in character, so it's always thrilling when a reader mentions that they seem authentic to them. Thanks again and yep, I can guarantee that there will be more chapters in the future.

* * *

'Foolish' was a word that Mark Sloan had heard many times in his life. Often, in reference to himself.

It was a word that was frequently brought up when people mentioned his quirks, his eccentricities as they called them. Granted, most doctors did not do their rounds on roller skates or motor scooters, and they didn't deliver their lectures in rap. Then again, Mark never saw the point in sticking to staid routines simply because others before him had done so.

Sometimes, 'foolish' was just another way for people to tell him that they thought he was soft-hearted. That he took on too many charity cases at the hospital. Or that he was too generous with the people who knew him and complete strangers he encountered. The hospital budgets had to be considered. People could take advantage of him. Mark had heard these reasons and more numerous times over the years.

Not that any of those admonishments or words of caution deterred him at all. The way he saw it, if everyone walked around with a closed fist, no one would be ready with a helping hand. If that meant that, sometimes, there would be no reward or gratitude for trying to help someone, so be it. It still could not erase all the good that could be sown.

However, while he could normally dismiss most of the times that people referred to him as foolish, he couldn't think of another word to describe himself at that particular moment.

It started two weeks ago with the murder of a small-time drug dealer that Steve had been assigned to investigate. The leads Steve had gotten tied in with an operation the vice squad had been working on for almost a year. Seeing their first real opportunity to nail the entire organization, Steve and Cheryl were put on the team that was getting ready to intercept a large shipment of cocaine.

This meant that, for the past week, Steve had been part of a surveillance team at the docks. During that time, he hadn't been home and there had only been a couple of phone calls to let Mark know that he was ok. Up until today, the work had mostly been slow and tedious. At least, that's what Steve mentioned both times when he had talked to him.

Tonight, however, was the night the shipment was supposed to come in.

Mark paced around his front room. He had stayed at the hospital for two hours after his shift had ended just so he could keep his mind away from worries about Steve. When he got home, he tried reading, watching an old movie and even playing some music, but nothing had held his attention for long. Eventually, his thoughts always drifted back to his son.

' _Steve will be fine. I'm worrying over nothing,'_ he told himself. _'This isn't the first time he's been involved in a drug bust. And Cheryl is there and a whole bunch of fine cops, I'm sure.'_

Still, as rational as his arguments sounded in his brain, Mark couldn't deny the lingering doubts at the back of his mind. That dealer who had been killed had been shot in broad daylight which implied that these criminals thought that they were untouchable. Or that they had nothing to lose. And either one of those things could mean that they wouldn't think twice about shooting a police officer. A police officer like Steve, for example….

Mark chewed the edges of his fingers, a bad habit that he couldn't help when he was feeling especially antsy. He hoped that Steve would be able to call once it was over. Just a quick heads up so he'd know that his son was ok. At the same time, Mark dreaded hearing the phone ring. A phone call from the police could mean that something terrible…or even the unthinkable…had happened.

The phone rang, sending a jolt down Mark's spine. He sprinted over to pick it up.

"Mark Sloan."

"Dad?"

Mark let out a huge sigh of relief. "Steve? What happened? Is it over? Did you get them?"

"Yeah, we got them," Steve said with a sneeze. "With the drugs and with plenty of evidence for the murder."

Mark had started to smile when Steve sneezed again, causing a frown to appear instead. "Steve, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Steve replied. "One of them pushed me into the water while trying to escape. And that water was freezing, Dad." He sneezed again. "Look, I gotta go. I need to fill out my initial report, but I'll leave the rest for tomorrow. I should be home in about an hour."

"All right," Mark said. "I'll have some chicken soup and warm blankets waiting for you here."

"Sounds good," Steve said. "Thanks Dad. Bye."

"Goodbye son," Mark said. He hung up the phone and started to whistle a tune while walking to the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** This chapter takes place after the events in Confession.

 **Mustard Lady:** Thank you. :) They are such vivid characters, so it's been a lot of fun to write for them. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well.

 **Hengrimm:** First off, thanks so much for the review. :) Also, in regards to what you were saying about the awkward position Steve can be put in due to Mark's working independently of a formal police investigation...I actually agree with you a lot. That's _exactly_ what I was touching on with that first chapter because I think the episode I was writing it in relation to was one that really illustrated the point you were making. I know on the show, it usually turned out of for the best for Mark to step outside procedure to solve the murders, but in that particular situation, I do think Mark mainly put Steve in a potentially difficult spot due to his differing opinion of justice. And I couldn't help but think that there would be at least some conflict between Steve and Mark over that. So thank you again for your thoughtful review and I hope you'll enjoy future chapters.

* * *

"Ugh, why? Why did I ever let him talk me into this?"

Steve had just stepped off an elevator at Community General and heard a familiar voice nearby. He smiled as he turned to see Amanda hanging up her cell phone and rolling her eyes.

"What is it now?" he said, walking toward her. Amanda let out a sigh as she looked over at him.

"I just got off the phone with my sitter," she said. "Apparently CJ ran off from her at one point in the park. And when she asked him why he did that, CJ told her that he was going to look for a friend for Tommy."

"Tommy?" Steve echoed.

"That's what he named his new pet rabbit," Amanda replied. "You know, the one your father insisted I take home with me."

"Wait, my father asked you to adopt a rabbit?" Steve asked, confused.

"You remember that case we all worked on from a week ago?" Amanda said. "The one with Father Dominic?"

"Yeah, how could I forget?" Steve chuckled. "I still can't believe he tried to go undercover as a handyman. I saw him cause a street-wide power outage once when he tried to re-wire his coffeemaker. He's the last person anyone should trust with a box of tools."

"Yes, and while he was working undercover, he ended up with a rabbit that had been caught in a trap," Amanda continued. "It seems this rabbit had snuck into the garden one too many times and had made a pest of itself."

"And let me guess, rather than have something unfortunate happen to it, he asked you to give it a home," Steve nodded.

"Oh of course," Amanda said, throwing her hands up in the air. "He tried to tell me that the rabbit actually solved that case, but I don't believe him. Jesse doesn't believe him. No one in their right mind is going to believe him. And yet I still let him talk me into taking that rabbit home to my kids."

"I get it," Steve replied. "What, is the rabbit not working out?"

"Oh no, it's working out," Amanda said. "My kids love it, just like Mark said they would. No, the problem is that it's working out too well, Steve. Now, I've got CJ running around trying to find another rabbit to bring home. One rabbit I can handle. But two? That is not happening. Because it won't be just two for long. I'll wake up and find six and then twelve and then…."

Amanda waved her hand around before covering her face with it. "Why didn't I just get another dog or a cat? Then I could have told Mark that there was no room, but no. No, I had to let him talk me into introducing my kids to rabbits."

"That certainly sounds like Dad," Steve chuckled. "It's a good thing that I live with him or he'd probably would try to get me to start my own zoo."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Amanda laughed. "I bet you've had to put up with that your whole life."

"Sure did," Steve replied. "Back when I was a kid and before we moved into the house on the beach, we had this neighbor: Mrs. Thackerly. She was an old widow who had lived in her house for fifty years."

"And I take it from your tone that she wasn't one of those nice old ladies who invites the neighborhood boys over for cookies and milk," Amanda said.

"Hardly," Steve snorted. "More like the mean old lady who yells at everyone and throws rocks at the kids who get too close to her yard. Anyway, at one point, she fell off her porch and broke her ankle. She was still able to get around her house all right, but she couldn't take care of her yard and garden. And her nephew, who was the only family she had who could help out, had just gone on a cruise for two weeks. So, my father thought it would be a good idea if we helped her out by doing it until her nephew came back from his vacation."

"I'm sure you weren't looking forward to that," Amanda nodded.

"Not when it meant giving up two sessions of baseball practice," Steve replied. "Fortunately, my dad worked it out with the coach so I wouldn't be penalized for it, but that didn't mean I wanted to spend all that time pulling weeds and pushing a lawnmower for someone who clearly didn't like me. But to be fair, Dad did take care of the garden and the sweeping of the sidewalk and porch."

"And was Mrs. Thackerly grateful for all your hard work?" Amanda asked.

"Not at all," Steve sighed. "Oh sure, she stopped throwing rocks at me when I walked too close to her yard, but that was the only thing that changed."

Amanda made a face. "Then it sounds like a waste of time, if you ask me."

"I suppose in a way it was," Steve shrugged. "Still, Dad said that it was the decent thing to do even if we didn't even get a single 'thank you' for our troubles. At the time, I didn't see the point, but looking back at it now, I do."

"I suppose you're right." Amanda smiled at him fondly. "How does Mark keep convincing us to do stuff like that? Like clean up yards for cranky old ladies or take in stray rabbits?"

Steve shared a laugh with her and shook his head. It was a question he had asked himself at various points throughout the years. Sometimes, it took longer to figure out, but in the end, he always came back to the same explanation. Mark was able to convince his son and his friends to do so many difficult, tedious, or even slightly hazardous things was because they all knew that he would do any of them himself if he could. In fact, he would do far more if needed to take care of them. Mark had a heart that was larger than anyone else any of them had ever met. It was a heart that could stretch out to care for every patient or stranger who needed his help and yet that still managed to keep his closest friends and family nearest to his generous, compassionate soul.

Steve looked over at Amanda and smiled as he guessed from the expression on her face that she had probably reached a similar conclusion.

"I should get going," he said. "I promised Dad I'd pick him up after work so we could go get some dinner."

"Yeah, and I need to pick up some rabbit food on the way home," Amanda said. She let out a small, exasperated sigh. "Steve, what am I going to do if CJ manages to bring home another rabbit?"

"Try to convince my dad that you've got a great new addition to his magic act for the children's ward," Steve chuckled.

Amanda laughed again as he took off down the hall toward his father's office. He knew he'd have his work cut out for him to convince Mark to leave on time to get something to eat, but it was a challenge he more than willing to do.

After all, he knew perfectly well his dad would be ready to do the same for him.


End file.
